


it burns like heroin

by gliimmer



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bullying, Depression, Past Sexual Abuse, Peter is 15, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Rape Aftermath, Skip Westcott Is Evil, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tony Stark Has A Heart, this is a vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 02:19:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17235488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gliimmer/pseuds/gliimmer
Summary: he took peter’s life from him. peter’s going to take it back, no matter the cost.





	1. 3

dear ned,

you know, we always used obsess over star wars. hell, we *still* do. how awesome jedis are, and how evil the sith were. we used to be able to have such clear opinions of people. it was so obvious who was evil and who wasn’t. but lately, i’m having a harder and harder time finding out the difference. between good and bad, i mean. if good people do bad things, are they still good? and if a bad person does good things, are they still bad? 

i guess what i’m trying to say is that i’m confused. more than confused, even. i’m lost. i don’t know what or how to think anymore. people you think you can trust turn around and hurt you, yknow? side note: this is not about you. you are the truest, best friend i’ve ever had. don’t ever doubt that. but ned, i’m struggling to keep my head above water. every waking moment feels like another long day of trying to stay afloat. and i’m tired. i’m so fucking tired. i just want to close my eyes, and let myself go. 

and that’s just what i’m going to do. 

this is peter parker, letting go. 

p.s. take care of the suit for me, will ya?


	2. 2

peter is tired. it doesn’t matter how much coffee he drinks, how much sleep he gets in a night. he’s perpetually exhausted. but he would rather get his suit taken away then let that show. so he smiles, he laughs, and he swings around the city every goddamn night like nothing is wrong. and everyone believes him. 

just as planned. 

now, don’t get peter wrong. he feels guilty enough, hiding his double identity from the aunt may. she’s been through a lot. so he considers it an act of consideration, pretending to be okay. is he lying? well, yeah. but dishonesty is a small price to pay when he sees his aunt smile at him so tenderly, sit just a little less stiff in her chair. he can’t let her know he’s breaking on the inside. he can’t take her down with him. what would uncle ben say? peter’s the man of the house now. and men of the house don’t show weakness. they have to be strong, for everyone else. the problem is, he doesn’t know how much longer he can pretend to be that strong. 

“peter!” 

peter’s head snaps up, looks around blearily. ned is jabbing his pencil into his back. 

“peter, answer the question.” he whispers. fuck. peter is in math class. peter is in math class and instead of thinking about algebra, he’s thinking about his own stupid feelings. he needs to stop getting in his own head so much. 

“um,” peter squints at the board in front of him. it’s covered in chalk dust and triangles that make absolutely no sense to him. “can i go to the bathroom?” 

his teacher sighs. “don’t forget to sign out.” 

peter grabs his backpack and slides out of his chair. he doesn’t even need to pee or anything, but he figures splashing some water on his face should help. he shuffles to the front of the room, signs his name on the sign out sheet, and leaves, closing the door softly behind him. he doesn’t notice flash looking at him through the tiny door window, doesn’t see the way flash smirks a little. 

there are four bathroom in midtown high. there’s two on the second floor, both of which are pretty heavily used at nearly all times of the day. they’re easily accessible, right there for students to use as they please. then there’s a faculty bathroom downstairs by the main office, which students try and use anyway even though it needs a key to open it. but when has a single lock ever stopped any teenager going through rebellion? the fourth one is tucked in a corner by the stairwell. most people forget it exists, which isn’t unreasonable due to the fact that whoever designed this school probably was half blind. the sign on it is faded, barely legible and when you open the door to the stairway, it completely covers the bathroom door. hardly anybody comes in there and recently, it’s become peter’s favorite hiding spot. he’s not hiding from anything, really, but sometimes he likes just sitting in the stall and closing his eyes for a bit. he doesn’t realize how long he’s had his eyes closed until he hears the door swing open. 

“hey puny, you in here?” flash’s obnoxious voice floods the tiny space, sending slight chills down peter’s spine. he holds his breath, slowly pulls his feet up, and says nothing. 

“nice try, parker. i can see your backpack sitting on the floor. you know, if you ever were in disguise, you’d definitely get caught in like five seconds. you’re not very good at hiding.” peter internally snorts at that. ‘i’m fucking spider-man and you have no idea,’ he thinks to himself. ‘dumbass.’ 

something pushes on the stall door. peter peeks at the slot between the door and floor. flash has propped himself against the stall, keeping peter locked in. 

“is this where you come to jack off?” flash asks conversationally. “must be rough, having to hide such a tiny dick. no worries, puny. i won’t tell a soul.” 

peter stays silent. flash takes that as a green light. 

“sometimes i wonder if you even /can/ jack off. i hear they’ve invented stuff to help with that. little tubes that suction. you probably have one of those. maybe you even invented it, at your stark internship. tony probably loved that, right?” 

peter inhales sharply. he doesn’t like where this is headed. he hopes flash is too dumb to notice. flash notices. 

“i think it’s really brave of you, parker. to keep trying to pretend you’re into girls when clearly, it ain’t liz that’s keeping you cozy. really, i commend you. it can’t be easy sucking up to stark when his dick is up your ass-“ 

that’s it. peter slams the stall door open, catching flash by surprise. but not for long. he’s clearly pleased by the reaction he’s coaxing out of peter. 

“don’t ever say that disgusting shit again ,” peter spits. “mr. stark is my boss and ONLY my boss. he’s a good man.” 

flash raises an eyebrow, straightens himself back up. he isn’t super tall, but peter is a bit lacking in the verticality department and that’s enough for flash to seem a lot bigger than he is. he leans in, savors the way peter slightly shuffles back. 

“i’m so sorry, did i hit a sore spot? oh wait, tony’s already done that.” 

that’s it. peter lunges for him, fire in his blood. he’s got his hands around flash’s shoulders, ready to push him against the wall and slam the shit out of him when he vaguely remembers that he shouldn’t use his actual strength on flash. he’s horrible and mean but a civilian nonetheless. so he forces himself to falter and flash fucking /laughs/. 

“that all you got, puny?” he mocks. and in an instant the roles reverse. flash has peter pinned face first against the cracked bathroom wall, his hands holding peter’s wrists above his head. peter can feel his breath against his ear. he also can feel all sanity leaving him. 

/you’re joking, right?/

“please.” he whispers. flash snorts. 

“wow, that desperate, huh?” 

/this isn’t funny, skip./

flash moves impossibly closer, removing all space between their bodies. peter can feel his chest against his back, can feel flash’s knee jutting ever so slightly between his legs. he can’t breathe. can’t even fathom fighting back, he’s so lost in his own emotions. 

/don’t do this. please./

“you like this, puny? is this what you’ve been dreaming about?” flash presses his fingers deeper into peter’s wrists, effectively keeping them in place. flash isn’t gay. he’s not, but he can’t help feeling aroused by the feeling of being so in control, so powerful. he’s got the guy who annoys him most in the most compromising position and he’d be an idiot if he didn’t run with it. 

somewhere along the line, the bell has rung and students have started milling around the halls. peter can barely hear; his thoughts are so loud, but the sound of the stairway door hitting the bathroom’s is unmistakable. he whimpers. 

/go ahead. scream. even if somebody did hear you, all they’d see is a dumb slut getting what he deserves. is that what you want? didn’t take you for such a freak, einstein./

“must be lunch time,” flash muses. “say, what do you think would happen if somebody were to walk in? dinner and a show, am i right?” 

peter bucks up weakly in response, trying desperately to free himself. he’s not sure what he’s doing is even working, but he can’t think right now. he just needs to get out. unfortunately, flash has the opposite idea. he grabs peter and swings him away from the wall. for a moment, peter thinks he’s done. but flash still has his hands on him and then he’s pushing peter down, bending him over the sink. 

“go ahead. yell. you like an audience, don’t ya? shit probably turns you on.” he shoves his knee further between peter’s legs, spreads them apart. “tell me it turns you on.” 

/you’ll like it, i promise. look, you’re hard. you can’t tell me you’re not enjoying yourself. you’d be lying. and good boys don’t lie./

“say it, puny.” one of flash’s hands has snuck its way onto peter’s torso. it lingers there for a second, before plummeting down to his crotch. “or maybe not so puny.” 

/you’re beautiful, peter./

the hand squeezes. peter bites the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. please, god. let this be over. but god doesn’t seem to give a singular shit about what peter wants , because now flash is pressing his own crotch into peter’s backside and is slowly grinding on him. peter thinks about what he must look like, pressed against the bathroom sink with his legs apart, ass out. just a hole for the taking. 

/you were made for me, einstein. look how well you’re taking me./

“say it, parker. i’m not gonna ask again.” flash grabs peter’s hair with his other hand and yanks his head up. this is worse. now peter is facing the mirror and he can /see/ himself, see how vulnerable he looks in this position. and flash can see it too. he’s chuckling to himself, looking at their reflection. then he makes eye contact with peter and his face changes. peter is crying silently. his eyes are shut but tears are streaming steadily down his cheeks. his nose is leaking snot, his mouth bitten and bleeding. and flash lets go. backs up. he suddenly feels guilty, something he never feels when he’s messing with peter. he’s taken it too far and he knows it. 

“fucking faggot.” he snarls, but his words lack bite. he needs to leave. so he gives peter one last look and books it. peter doesn’t care. he hardly notices the pressure on his back is gone. without anything to hold him up, he collapses onto the floor and screams into the dirty tiles. he knows no one will hear him. 

no one ever does.


	3. 1

peter lays there for a while. he’s calm now. physically, at least. the shaking has stopped and he’s no longer crying. but his mind is in chaos. the only thing running through his head is snippets of skip, reruns of what he did to him. for years, peter worked hard to get past it. he cut off contact with skip completely, wrote everything down in journals, did deep breathing. and none of it worked. so he resorted to pushing everything down deep, deep inside of him and that worked. he hasn’t even thought about skip in so fucking long and now, everything is bubbling to the surface. he can feel skip’s touches, he can hear his exact words. 

/no one will love you like i do, will touch you like i do. you understand? you’re so special, einstein. you’re lucky to have me./ 

peter is curled up on linoleum flooring, shaken and teetering and he feels far from lucky. doesn’t feel anything, really. he allows himself to lay there a little longer before pulling himself upright. splashes some cold water on his face. he probably looks like shit. peter inhales deeply, then makes himself look into the mirror. he looks fine, really. no bruises, no telltale signs of him sobbing hysterically for probably what was an hour. he smiles at himself. it’s got no real feeling in it, and ends up looking as empty as he feels. 

/smile for the camera, baby. you’re gonna wanna remember this one./

“shut up.” 

/don’t give me that. i know you’re enjoying yourself. you can frown and cry all you want but your dick is saying otherwise./

“shut UP.” 

/i see right through you, peter. you want this. i know you do. aren’t you supposed to be a genius? if you really didn’t want me, why would you be reacting so nicely?/

“i said SHUT UP.” peter slams his fist into his reflection. he doesn’t care that he just destroyed school property, doesn’t even care that there’s shards of glass sticking into his hand. he wants to forget today, and all the days before that. shakily, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and speed dials happy. 

“come pick me up?” 

~~~~~

“are you sure today’s a half day? i don’t see any other kids leaving.” happy watches peter through the rear view mirror as he climbs into the backseat. 

“yeah, i’m sure. most of em left already.” peter says distractedly. happy eyes the cars clearly sitting in the parking lot. he opens his mouth to question the kid, then decides it’s not worth it. whatever. if the kid says it’s a half day, it’s a half day and happy would be none the wiser. he shifts the car into drive and peels out of the lot. 

the ride to stark tower is unbelievably quiet. peter usually wastes no time chattering about his day, what he had for lunch, a lame joke ned had made. but today he says nothing. he just stares out the window. after a while, happy clears his throat. 

“everything good? you’re usually talking my ear off by now.” 

‘man, am i really that annoying?’ peter thinks to himself dully. 

/shut up and come over here. i’ve got something better for your mouth to do./

he shudders. “just really tired,” he murmurs. glancing up, he sees happy looking skeptically at him. “there was a big test today. i didn’t sleep much last night studying for it.” he lies. happy doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he directs his gaze back at the road. 

“well, don’t let that become a habit. mr. stark needs you to stay sharp.” 

mr. stark. tony. normally, the mention of him would perk peter right up. but now he just feels sick. closing his eyes, peter leans his head against the window and tries to imagine that every bump against his skull is resetting his brain, erasing all the awful memories. he doesn’t want to think right now. 

too soon, the bumping ceases. happy parks, and lets himself out. peter remains sitting, face expressionless. this is definitely weird. no matter how many times peter has been to stark tower, he always bounces out the car and beelines for the entrance with the excitement of someone who’s never been. happy raps his knuckles against the window. 

“hey, you alive back there?” 

peter snaps his head up and blinks wildly. “yeah. yeah. i’m just tired.” 

“you said that already.” happy harrumphs and opens peter’s door. peter slides out and dips his head down slightly. 

“sorry.” he mumbles and trudges towards the front door. happy stares after him. did this kid just apologize for repeating himself? he shuts the car door and follows. something is not right, and it’s not just fatigue. 

by the time peter enters tony’s lab, he’s started to feel much better. the excitement of being at the one and only stark towers is starting to seep back into him. there’s tech everywhere, things nobody else has ever seen to toy with and study. it’s almost impossible for peter not to smile when he thinks about how privileged he is in this aspect. while peter is distracted, happy grabs tony and pulls him outside the lab. 

“keep an eye on him.” he says in hushed tones. “he’s been acting a little off.” 

tony cocks his head. “off? happy, he’s a teenager. everything they do is a little off.” happy shakes his head. 

“no, this is different. the kid didn’t say a word to me in the car today. just stared out the window. something’s up with him.” 

tony’s face softens. that was pretty strange. “okay, i’ll talk to him. he’s probably just tired or something. he’s got a lot on his plate.” 

tired. yeah. happy is probably just reading too deep into things. so he shoves his worry back where it came from and nods. “i’ll leave you guys to it, then.” he says. and that he does. 

tony walks back into the lab, the doors shutting behind him. peter jumps at the sound. 

“why’d you close the doors?” he asks, bewildered. tony wrinkles his forehead. 

“i always close the doors, remember? privacy is key, kid. don’t want anybody snooping on my inventions.” peter relaxes at that, but not by much. did tony really always close the doors? he can’t seem to remember. ‘this is tony!’ the logical part of his brain screams at him. ‘he’s not gonna hurt you, stop freaking out!’ stop freaking out. right. peter steadies his breathing, something he didn’t even notice has sped up. he needs to chill. 

meanwhile, tony is studying the kid in front of him. happy was right. something was off. peter never jumped like that, especially not because of a door closing. and peter definitely has been here long enough that he should know that tony always closes the doors when they’re in the lab. teenagers are just dumb, he reasons with himself. but peter isn’t just a dumb teenager. he’s smart as hell, and that is why tony chooses to start to worry. he lets peter tinker around, watching him carefully. the kid doesn’t look particularly different. his hair is messy and his clothes are kind of wrinkled but other than that, he looks fine. healthy. peter must’ve felt tony looking at him, because he abruptly stops moving and turns to look at him. 

“uh, mr. stark?” 

“yeah?” 

“is something wrong?” 

“no! no. i’m just. y’know.” 

peter shifts uncomfortably. mr. stark was looking at him. staring. skip used to do that. he would watch peter do his homework, watch him play, watch him watch tv. peter is no stranger to being watched. but he also knows that people get tired of just watching. but this is mr. stark we’re talking about, his brain reminds him. and mr. stark is a good man and he would never hurt peter. never. 

“okay.” he says. and he turns back around and continues messing around. tony frowns. yep, this is definitely weird. he’s never seen peter act like this. 

“how’s the suit? you like the new design?” 

“yeah! it’s awesome, mr. stark. you won’t believe how much stuff i can do now!” peter turns around again and smiles. “being out of of safe mode is way cooler.” he rambles on, blabs about how amazing everything is and how tony should’ve let him have full control of the suit sooner. and tony starts to relax. this is the kid he knows. the kid who talks too much and gets so damn excited about everything. it’s endearing, actually. 

“kid, you better believe that i know exactly what kind of stuff you can do cuz i designed that suit. speaking of, where is it? put it on, let’s see all these cool things you can do.” tony grins as smacks peter on the back. peter stiffens. 

“i-it’s in my backpack.” 

“okay, and? where’s your backpack?” 

silence. 

“kid? i said where’s your back-“

“it’s at school.” 

tony inhales through his nose. “it’s at school?” 

silence again. 

“pete, you can’t leave shit like that at school where anybody could find it. what if someone opened it and saw the suit? you gotta start being more responsible. c’mon, let’s go get it. is the school still open? doesn’t matter. we’re getting in there.” tony moves towards the door. peter doesn’t follow. 

“pete. let’s move it.” 

/i thought you said you were a big boy, peter. big boys are responsible for their actions. when they mess up, they get punished. and they take it like a man. aren’t you a man, peter?/

“i’m sorry mr. stark.” 

“it’s fine, i just wish you would use your head more. i mean, you’re a smart kid, y’know? think shit through.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

“kid, i said it’s fine. now come on.” 

“i’m really sorry, it won’t happen again-“ 

“i’m not gonna repeat myself, kid.” 

that shuts peter up. he’s gone awfully pale, tony notes. 

“kid?” 

“i’m not a kid.” 

“...okay-“ 

“i’m a big boy. and big boys are responsible for their actions.” peter sounds like he’s reciting from a textbook. and before tony can say anything else, peter is kneeling in front of him. 

“whoa, it’s not that deep petey. you can stand- what the fuck?” he jerks back. peter is trying to unbuckle his belt. peter is kneeling on the ground and he just tried to unbuckle tony’s belt and fuck, shit this is NOT okay. he grabs the kid by the collar and pulls him up. 

“what the fuck was that?” he nearly yells. 

“i’m sorry. i can do better.” 

“i don’t want you to do better, i want you to explain to me what the fuck just happened!” tony is shaking. he can’t believe peter, his protege peter, just tried to give him a blowjob. 

“i’m so-“ 

“stop. okay.” tony massages his temple with his free hand. “listen, kid, i’m flattered, but that is very, very wrong, what you just did. you’re 15. you’re just a child. i may be a lot of things. genius, billionaire, philanthropist, playboy. but i’m NOT a pedophile. jesus christ. that would be like fucking my own son. do you understand that? do you see why that’s really, really gross? and illegal? tell me you understand, peter.” 

peter doesn’t say a word. just stares listlessly at tony. he sighs.

“pete, i don’t care if you’re gay, but-“

“i’m not gay.” 

“what?” 

“i’m not gay.” 

tony pauses. “okay, you’re gonna need to explain because i am not following. you say you’re not gay, but you also just tried to give me a blowjob. those things don’t add up, and i’m really, really good at math. it’s okay if you are, pete, i’m not mad at you.” for that, at least. 

“i said i’m not gay! i just, i thought that’s what you wanted.” peter is crying now. 

“what /i/wanted? fuck, peter i am so sorry if i’ve done anything to make you think that but i promise you that is the last thing i want.” 

peter just continues to sob. tony sighs again. he lets go of peter. 

“i don’t think you should come here anymore.” he says quietly. peter looks up wildly. 

“no, please, don’t kick me out.” he begs. and damn if it doesn’t pull at tony’s heart strings but he is not going to jail. not for a kid this confused, this sick. 

“i’m sorry pete. but what just happened is wrong. and i don’t know if you understand this, but i’m not attracted to kids. i’m not attracted to you. and after today, i don’t think it’s healthy for you to keep being here. do you understand me? peter. tell me you understand.” 

“i don’t! i don’t understand!” peter screams suddenly. “i don’t fucking get it! he *said* this is the way! that this is the only way! he told me so!” 

tony’s heart stops. he? 

“who’s he? who told you that?” he demands. but peter just cries unintelligibly, wails his tiny heart out. tony shakes him. 

“who told you that?” 

“he said i had to,” peter sobs. “he wouldn’t lie to me, he wouldn’t...” 

“who is he? peter, fucking tell me!” tony is near throttling peter, gripping him so hard that his knuckles are turning white. “TELL ME WHO HE IS!” 

“TONY! LET HIM GO!” happy is standing at the doors, looking horrified. 

“i’m not letting go until he tells me what’s going on!” 

“for fucks sake, look at him! he’s terrified!” and tony looks. he looks at peter. he looks at this child he’s holding, this heartbroken, shaking child. and he lets go. peter tumbles to the floor. 

“you better have a really, really good fucking explanation for what i just saw, tony. because otherwise things are not going to look good for you.” 

“he- he came onto me!” 

“oh jesus christ. kid, get in the car. i’m calling the police.” 

“no, happy, you don’t understand. he-“ 

“yeah, a 15 year old came onto you so you fucking tried to strangle him. come on, kid.” 

“NO! listen to me. peter? is sick. he’s very, very sick and we need to get some fucking cia agent up in here so i can figure out who the HELL ‘he’ is.” 

“tony, you need to calm down and you need to stay right where you are. i don’t know what the hell you’re saying and frankly, i’m starting not to care.” 

tony wants to rip his hair out. he closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose. 

“i am going to say this once and only once. and i don’t give a damn if you call the police because you know what? i want them here anyway. peter is 15. peter is a kid. peter is a 15 year old kid who just tried to suck my dick. and i don’t know why. but somebody told him to do that, somebody *trained* him to do that and i am not leaving until i find the sick fuck. are you listening, happy hogan? i am not leaving this lab until peter tells me who the fuck he is talking about.” 

happy’s eyes are full of emotion. he looks like he doesn’t know whether to give tony the benefit of the doubt or blast him with whatever kind of gun is laying around.

“peter.” he says slowly, eyes glued to tony. “i need you to tell me exactly what happened.” 

peter says nothing. happy looks over, near boiling point. and peter said nothing because peter is not even here. peter is gone. 

“where’s peter?” 

“how the fuck would i know? i’ve been busy being accused of shit i didn’t do!” 

happy glares at tony. 

“listen, you’ve known me for years. you know me. trust me happy, i didn’t do a single thing to the kid and i never will. he- he’s like a son to me. you know that? he’s like my own fucking son. and i would never, ever do something like that to him.” tony’s voice breaks halfway through. “he’s been hurt. and it wasn’t by me.” 

happy looks at him. really looks at him. finally, he closes his eyes and nods. “okay. i believe you.” 

tony exhales. “thank you.” 

“i still want to hear peter’s side.” 

“fine by me. but maybe we should find him first.” 

because as terrible as this is for tony, he can’t imagine how much worse it is for peter.


	4. 0

dear ned,

you know, we always used obsess over star wars. hell, we *still* do. how awesome jedis are, and how evil the sith were. we used to be able to have such clear opinions of people. it was so obvious who was evil and who wasn’t. but lately, i’m having a harder and harder time finding out the difference. between good and bad, i mean. if good people do bad things, are they still good? and if a bad person does good things, are they still bad? 

i guess what i’m trying to say is that i’m confused. more than confused, even. i’m lost. i don’t know what or how to think anymore. people you think you can trust turn around and hurt you, yknow? side note: this is not about you. you are the truest, best friend i’ve ever had. don’t ever doubt that. but ned, i’m struggling to keep my head above water. every waking moment feels like another long day of trying to stay afloat. and i’m tired. i’m so fucking tired. i just want to close my eyes, and let myself go. 

and that’s just what i’m going to do. 

this is peter parker, letting go. 

p.s. take care of the suit for me, will ya? 

peter stops writing, arm trembling. he’s hesitating. but he can’t, not now. so he sticks the letter into an envelope, and shoves it into the slots of ned’s locker. it’s 3pm on a saturday and peter is standing in the middle of midtown high. he hasn’t stepped foot in here for nearly 2 weeks. he’s been hiding. in parks, downtown, anywhere. he’s good at that. tony stark himself has been searching for him and if he hasn’t found him yet, well, he never will. peter will make sure of that. 

for these past two weeks, peter has done a lot of thinking and not much else. he hasn’t showered, or brushed his teeth, or eaten more than a couple bites when he remembers to. he’s dirty and tired and cold, still wearing the same wrinkled clothes from before. but it doesn’t matter. none of it does. because now he knows that skip, his skip, fucking /lied/ to him. after one quick google search, peter learned that a) skip westcott has been sentenced to life in prison for the rape and murder of a 13 year old boy, b) skip westcott had took his own life three months into his sentence and c), what skip westcott had done to peter all those years ago was called sexual abuse. 

peter cried. peter cried a LOT. he couldn’t stop thinking about skip, about how he was such a good person, so funny and kind. the best babysitter peter ever had. but, if he was so good and kind, why did he do this to peter? why did he hurt him? after a couple days, the sadness turned to anger. peter screamed into his fists, punched any and every inanimate object he could get his hands on. how could skip do this to him? he was supposed to be his friend. he was supposed to help him. and maybe peter should be glad that he eventually got put in jail, maybe he should be glad that he’s dead but that just makes peter even angrier. how dare skip just take the easy way out. because he didn’t just take his own life. he took peter’s, too. and that wasn’t fucking fair. 

more days pass, and the anger fades. he’s just sad. really, really fucking sad. but not the kind he’s used to. when uncle ben died, he was sad. cried for hours and hours every day. but peter doesn’t seem to have any tears left. he feels like he’s aged a million years, like very organ in his body could fail him at any moment. he feels so fucking sad and it’s eating him up inside. he thinks of ned. he thinks of aunt may. he thinks of tony. 

mr. stark is one of the best men peter has ever known. he’s helped peter so much, treated him like a friend rather than a stupid kid. he was everything skip was /supposed/ to be. so why did he hurt peter? why did he yell at him, grab him and shake him? peter doesn’t get it. skip is- was- a bad man who just pretended to be nice. mr. stark actually was nice, so why did he become so cruel? peter can’t wrap his head around it. and then he starts to understand that he doesn’t know a lot of things. clearly, his judge of character is way off. 

for a majority of these two weeks, peter did a lot of thinking. but not just about skip, and not just about mr. stark. he thinks about himself. about how weak he is, how disgusting he is for letting himself become so ruined. he hates himself. 

“i’m just in the way.” he thinks aloud. “i’m useless. i’m bad. i’m annoying and gross and the world would be better without me.” he doesn’t know where that last part comes from. it just bubbles up from inside him and he knows he should feel awful for basically saying he wants to die but he doesn’t. he says it again.

“the world would be better without me.” 

and that triggers the sadness into depression. he spends less time thinking about how to fix this whole mess and more time thinking about how great it would be if he just disappeared, how easy it would be to just snap his fingers and stop existing. he stops secretly wishing for tony or ned to find him and starts wishing instead that he could just stop...being. he’s just an inconvenience, after all. 

pretty soon, peter has built the confidence to start up the hatchlings of a plan. the plan of all plans, the beginning of the end. it’s been about a week and half since he ran away from stark tower, a week and a half of complete isolation. he hasn’t spoken to a single soul, keeping himself pressed into the shadows. and he finds that he simultaneously loves and hates it. he’s so fucking lonely, but it makes it easier to bear when he reminds himself that the world is better without him. so he thinks of a plan. 

part of the plan takes place here. at the drugstore. peter sticks out like a sore thumb, clearly young and clearly not okay. but it’s nighttime, all the weirdos come out at nighttime. it’s okay. so peter stands in the painkiller aisle, grabs an armful of midol bottles, and walks up the to cash register. some middle aged man is standing behind it, looking bored. he takes one look at peter and shakes his head. 

“i can’t sell you more than one of those.” he says.

“why?” 

“it’s the law. those things got acetaminophen in em. they could kill you if you take too much.” 

“that’s okay.” 

the cashier studies peter. “look kid, go home. i don’t know why you think offing yourself is the answer but it ain’t. you’ll hurt a lot of people. think of your family, your friends. think of the pain you’ll cause them.” 

“everybody says that.” peter says quietly. “i even used to say that. that suicide is selfish, that it only hurts more people. but i don’t feel that way anymore. it’s not selfish. in fact, it’s the least selfish thing i’ve ever thought about doing for myself. because all i do is care about what other people think, how other people feel. but what about me? what about the pain *i’m* caused? no one sees that i’m suffering, that i wake up every fucking day disappointed that i’m still alive. i’m hurting and no one can help me. no one but me. so thank you, sir, but i’m going to do this. i’m going to save myself.” and with that, peter slaps a 20 down and walks out the store. he knows he won’t be followed. 

it’s today now. it’s today and peter is in midtown high. he’s in the fourth bathroom, hidden in the corner by the stairs. it’s 3pm on a saturday, he’s alone, and he’s going to kill himself. 

his backpack was still there when he came in. it’s empty now, homework and books and pencils strewn across the floor. his suit is in ned’s locker, along with his letter. he almost wishes he wrote something a little longer, a little more eloquent. but he knows he wouldn’t have the courage to continue if he did. that’s why he didn’t write for may. or for mr. stark. 

peter feels a little scared, to be completely truthful. he’s shaking a little, pill bottles lined up on the bathroom counter. the mirror he punched is still broken, pieces of glass still sitting in the sink. he looks at his distorted reflection. he doesn’t see himself. just sees a little boy, too innocent for the world. too innocent for what’s going to happen to him. peter speaks to him. 

“i’m sorry,” he tells the little boy. “i’m sorry we didn’t grow up right. i’m sorry we didn’t ever get to become an avenger. and i’m sorry i can’t let him go. it’s like he’s in me. he’s in my head, in my veins. i see him in everybody now. i want to badly to forget him. but i can’t. he stole my faith, stole my life. /our/ life. but he won’t win. i won’t let him. i’m going to take control back. he took away our choice but i’m going to take it back. i’m going to take my own life.” silent tears run down peter’s cheeks. “and when i finally see that bastard again, he’s gonna wish he killed himself long before we met.” 

~~~~

Peter Parker was found dead on December 31st, 2018 after being recorded as missing for 2 weeks. Autopsy showed he died of organ failure. The funeral was held a week later. 

With time, people will forget. The hurt will subside. Things will go back to normal. Peter Parker was just a tragedy, a story that people click their tongues and shake their heads out. 

“Poor kid,” they say. “So sad.” 

No one knows the true reason behind the decline of Peter Parker. It remains a mystery. More than that, though, people wonder when Spider-Man will come back. When their masked hero will save the needy, just like he used to. 

Nobody knows that when Peter Parker died, Spider-Man went with him. That they were the one and the same. That nobody, not even Spider-Man, could save Peter Parker. 

Some people can’t be saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is purely a vent fic. i do not condone or recommend suicide. if you feel this way or similarly, please seek professional help. this is a work of fiction.


End file.
